


Your Voice Is All I Need

by LokiLover84



Category: VIXX
Genre: Hakyeon is aloof, Hyuk is a pest, I don't need your help, I'm perfectly fine on my own mentality, Lee Jaehwan is mouthy, M/M, Slow Burn, Taekwoon takes no shit, Wow who knew I needed so many tags that don't exist yet?, hearing loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 12:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17264597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiLover84/pseuds/LokiLover84
Summary: Hakyeon does *not* need help from anyone, thank you very much. But he realizes he may want the help more than he knew when he meets one Lee Jaehwan.





	Your Voice Is All I Need

 

 

 

 

 

_ We take for granted our five senses, every day. We suppose they will always be there, never failing, for us, no matter what. We sometimes think, in a hypothetical and abstract way, what we would do, how we would act, if one of these skills, necessary for survival, were suddenly taken from us.  _

 

_ But none of us actually expects it to happen.  _

 

It was Sunday, I remember it so clearly that it could have been yesterday. The day started normally, with no indication that it would be the one to change my life forever. My dad was closeted away in his study, poring over college essays, grading them carefully but fairly. My mom was in the kitchen, just like always, delicious scents filling the house as she played around with creating new recipes for her weekly cooking class. 

 

I’d spent a couple of hours in my room, catching up on homework, also a completely normal occurrence. I wasn’t feeling well, but I brushed it off, thinking it was just a headache, a small fever, easily overcome by dinnertime. When my vision started to blur, turning fuzzy around the edges, I closed my textbook, sliding it and my notebook back into my messenger bag, before heading outside. 

 

My favorite spot in our yard was toward the back, where an old cherry tree still put out the most amazing blossoms every year, speckling the green grass with dots of pink, and perfuming the air with the most incredible scent. I laid down on this bed of fragrance, gazing up at the sky through the moving tree branches. I suppose I dozed a bit, only coming back to myself when my mother called out the back door that dinner was almost ready. I climbed to my feet, feeling a bit dizzy, but cried out when a sharp pain lanced through my head. I don’t remember much after that, other than my mother calling shrilly out to me, the feeling of being lifted and carried inside, the feeling of my soft sheets closing in around me. 

 

I have no memory at all of the next week, but my mother has told me bits and pieces of what happened. My fever spiked, leaving my bed soaked in sweat, while I cried out in delirium and clawed at my ears. They called a doctor, a family friend who came over to look me over. He was at a loss, but he was afraid that moving me at that point might be worse than simply allowing me to remain in my own bed. He retrieved everything he needed to basically turn my space into a hospital room, hooking up an IV to keep me hydrated, and medicating me to try to bring the fever down, as well as alleviate some of the pain I was in. It was touch and go for seven grueling days, but on the eighth, the fever finally broke and I fell into a deep sleep for a further three days while my body attempted to recover. After almost two weeks, I awoke, weak and disoriented, with no clear idea of why I was hooked to machines, with my parents sobbing in each others arms in relief. 

 

“Eomma? Appa?”

 

My voice was scratchy and distant, and my mother gathered me into her arms, murmuring gently as she stroked my head. It took me a moment to place, but I realized with a dawning fear that her voice seemed so far away, as if she were speaking to me from a different room. 

 

“Eomma, why can’t I hear you clearly?”

 

She shot my father a terrified look, and he returned one of defeat. 

 

That was the moment I knew things would never be the same. 


End file.
